


familiar

by musebyvocation



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:09:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musebyvocation/pseuds/musebyvocation
Summary: nerevar dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

soft, soft, soft. you know i'm not meant for this kind of gentleness. you _know_ i will only hurt you. so why... why are you being so kind to me?

eyes open to red and red upon red. soft black locks of hair that i run my hands through, humming. everything is tinted grey. i smile with my eyes closed.

in an endless stretch of hallways i am alone. every door i open leads to a corridor just like the last. each cycle ends the same and i wonder when it will end. i call into the darkness, sword-hand twitching at my side: is anyone there? there is a lantern in my right hand, fleeting and flickering. it bathes the doors in crimson. i frown. had it not been golden just a moment ago? when had it changed? or had i been the one to change?

an entrance opens,

slow,

at the end of the hallway

something isn't letting me move. i stare, transfixed, as some sort of ink pools out from underneath the door. i peer closer. hair. it's not ink, it's- 

i remember- combing my fingers through it. i remember- my calloused hands braiding it, touching it as gently as you'd cradle sunlight. i do not remember it curling around my throat when i was not looking. i do not remember this masked figure rising up in front of me, foreign and fearful but- aching to touch-?

"There are many rooms," he murmurs (and his eyes are soft like a lover's sigh), "in the house of the Master."

he begins to walk. i trail after him. this goes on for some time, but my feet do not tire and i loathe to let go of his arm. once, i feel him relax, just for a moment, to let his head rest against my shoulder. he embraces me. he whispers a name i've never heard before. foreign and frightening and so, so- tell me, i beg of you, tell me, who are you-?

he pulls away. my chest aches. he looks at me- is that something like pity? longing, too? i can't tell, not from behind that shimmering gold creeping up his eyes-

a hand on my cheek. the touch is gentle, but i feel the needle-pricks of blood welling. "Be easy," he whispers, "for from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you."

he directs my gaze to a corpse prone on a nearby table. it wears a face i've never seen before. i know it is mine. i reach out to touch. i see my hands shaking.

"Don't you know who you really are?" sighs the masked- mer? demon? god?- "Don't you know who I really am, my sweet-?"

the eyes, sky-blue, blink awake as i touch- the world fills with light and in a dagger-sharp wakefulness i am alone.


	2. Chapter 2

silk whispers against your skin, golden like you've never seen it- so shocking, and so strange, and so, so right. you look up to see what pompous ambassador of the high houses has dared to ask your hand this time- and laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

oh, you say, why, █████, if i'd only known you felt this way about me- you gesture about, to the wedding processional- and then you spot █████ in the bawdiest getup you've ever seen them in (quite a feat, considering _everything_ you've seen them in), and lose yourself to laughter. after a moment your suitor follows your gaze, and despite his taciturn exterior, can't help but chuckle himself.

,

he says, and you shake your head. really, █████! you whisper conspiratorily, you'll put us both to shame with that kind of statement. let's hope █████ didn't hear, they'll never let us live it down-

with an ever-changing face, █████ dances past you in whirls of gold and cyan. there is a smile on their lips, which flicker out of existence as soon as you stop to notice. your masked suitor puts a hand on their shoulder, leans in to whisper something with a coy grin; you don't know what it is he says, and you don't know what it is they reply. why don't you know why don't you understand? you should know you should understand something is wrong and some sort of rising discomfort takes hold like a sudden chill in your chest. your smile is strained when he comes back to you. takes your arm and leads you further down.

all of these people- you know them. you know their faces, that fade from your memory as soon as you look away. and their words- what of their words? it's something lovingly stern, surely, that the woman with burnished copper hair says as you walk by- and she must matter, surely, matter enough for you to stop and turn to reply to her. but the words flee from your tongue when you try to respond. who is this person that makes your heart ache like fire under your breast, like straining towards the sun? who is this person, who, when you turn from her, leaves you wanting to fall to your knees and apologize-?

it only worsens from there. with each guest you pass, you feel more and more, and yet remember nothing. if your suitor notices, he doesn't say a word; if anything, his grip only tightens on your arm. sweat begins to pool at the bottom of your neck. your eyes dart feverishly from guest to ghost. ghost. these are ghosts, comes the small, sweet shock. you say nothing, and smile broadly. he holds you closer. you try to say something- to make any noise at all- but your breath dies out in your throat, and your tongue flutters like paper in the wind. he holds you closer. you try not to cling to him. you try.

,

he says, and your chest seems to cave in on itself. you feel something trickle down your cheeks from your eyes. bitter iron and salt bite your tongue. 

his laughter rings clear like the strike of copper bells, and you wake.


End file.
